An Intriguing Case
by LadyDarkwind
Summary: Sherlock has been a well-regarded independent consulting detective for a long time, but he's never had a case quite like this one. What starts as a murder that is anything but simple takes a turn for the unimaginable when Sherlock and John team up with Thor. What will be revealed when Sherlock's mind is unleashed on the Asgardians? -Rated T for intense violence and crime scene gore
1. Chapter 1

***Author's Note***

As promised, here's chapter one of my Sherlock/Thor mashup! This one is purely for fun, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed coming up with it!

***End Note***

Sherlock walked swiftly down the alleyway, John Watson hurrying along behind him. "Come along, Watson; death waits for no man!"

John rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "I'm coming, you overgrown bat."

Sherlock continued on without so much as glancing behind him, prompting a small smile form John. It may have been a small victory, but it was a victory – and never mind that it was a bit lacking in maturity – John would take it. The mood suddenly changed as Sherlock and John caught a glimpse of the yellow caution tape and flashing red and blue lights at the end of the alleyway. They passed the officers at the perimeter and crossed under the tape, greeted by an oddly cheerful, "Morning, Sherlock. John." John muttered the socially required response, already greatly distracted by the grisly scene before them. From behind them, they heard a cross muttering, "Good morning, Lestrade. Nice to see you, Lestrade. How's it going, Lestrade? Is really so difficult to be cordial?"

John sucked in a breath and winced as Sherlock stopped suddenly and turned his ice-blue eyes on Lestrade, giving him as steely a gaze as he could manage this morning, which to say, shot him a glare that could curdle milk (he'd been too long without a case and his nicotine cravings had returned). "Good morning, Lestrade. Nice to see you, Lestrade. How's it going, Lestrade? Now, if that is sufficient to satisfy your compulsive urge to force cordiality on those who have little or no interest in adhering to the code of conduct set forth by _society_ , then – if it does not further aggravate your sensitive nerves – I would very much appreciate some blasted _quiet_ to look at the crime scene!"

Lestrade's eyes popped wide and he took half a step back, surprised by the venom in Sherlock's normally-chilly voice, "Oh, yeah. No problem."

John sighed from beside him, "Don't mind him, Inspector. He's been...Well, he's been a bit...bored, I suppose is the best I could explain it." At Lestrade's confused glances, John sighed and tried again, "Well, you see when Sherlock has a case, he finds it easier to function without cigarettes. When he doesn't, well...Let's just say he gets a bit... _difficult_."

Lestrade's eyebrows winged up, "Difficult? You mean he isn't difficult normally?"

John chuckled, "Oh, he's always difficult. Nicotine cravings just make him more so. At least he hasn't been shooting walls again, though..." he added as an afterthought to himself.

Lestrade shook his head, "Shooting _walls_?"

"Never mind. So, what have we got here?"

The Inspector cleared his throat, "Well, we were sort of hoping you two might be able to help us figure that out. It's definitely an odd one, though, and every time we have an odd case, Sherlock gets a call."

John hummed in the back of his throat, "Yes, I know. Scotland Yard keeps us rather well-paid."

Lestrade coughed uncomfortably, but was saved from answering when Sherlock shouted from a short ways down the alley, "John! You're going to want to see this!"

John shrugged and jogged over to Sherlock, where he sat on his heels, staring down at a body that had been covered by a large tarp, "What would you say was the cause of death, Doctor?"

John took a peak under the tarp and blanched, "Oh, bloody hell!" He dropped the tarp again and swallowed hard, "It's been a long time since something could turn my stomach, but that _definitely_ does. Alright, let me have another go." John steadied himself and tossed the tarp back, waiting for his stomach and sense of smell to adjust to the stench, not to mention the incredible gore. Once the bile had left his throat, John mirrored Sherlock's position and bent in close to look at the body. It was a young man – probably about twenty-five or thirty, John thought – and to say that he had "fallen" was something of an understatement. To be perfectly honest, John thought it looked like something out of a cartoon. The man had hit the pavement with such force that there was a definite man-shaped crater where he had landed. What remained of the man's head was a mangled, sickening mixture of crushed and broken bone chips, pulverized brain matter, blood, and tangled, matted hair. But from what _was_ left, John could see that he'd been of Anglo-Saxon descent with blond hair; he probably would have been about six-foot-five, or so. "Huh. Whatever happened to this poor chap, whoever tossed him from... _wherever_ must have been pretty big, himself; this man was no pixie. Did you notice this, Sherlock?" Sherlock leaned in closer, gazing where John was pointing, "Around the head here; the crater is deeper here than anywhere else. What do you think caused that?"

Sherlock looked up at John in surprise, "A most excellent catch, Watson. I'm impressed. I'm not sure what caused it, but this man was _not_ dropped from a building; maybe a plane? There's definitely something odd gong on here, though; did you see the ring on his right hand? Definitely Nordic. You're right about one thing, though; this man would have been very difficult to kill – look at the muscle mass. He was a soldier, for certain, and he was well-versed in close-quarters combat, not to mention some type of sword. Take a look at his hands; there are callouses on the palms, as well as the knuckles; this man was _very_ well trained. It would take someone of similar training to kill him, don't you agree, John?

John nodded, distracted, "Yeah; probably Special Forces, I think. Hold on; look at this, Sherlock. All these bruises on his torso...He was definitely in a fight of some kind. It almost looks like a billy-club, or maybe some kind of stick? I don't know; you're right, though. Very weird. The other odd thing, though...His injuries just don't seem consistent with a fall."

Sherlock's head snapped up at this, "Explain, Doctor."

John smirked at the directness of Sherlock's tone; he was feeling better. "Well, look; his arms and legs aren't shattered. If he'd fallen, say from an airplane, there would be broken bones all over his body, and I sincerely doubt that his limbs would be perfectly straight like this. Another thing, I don't think his spine is broken; if he'd fallen on his back like this, it would be. The more I look at this body, the eerier it becomes. You said the ring was Nordic?" Sherlock nodded, "You don't think this has anything to do with...what happened three years ago, do you?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "What? The so-called aliens? No, I don't. You know my views on that. Please, let us not get into this discussion again. I have agreed that the Avengers' abilities are supported by science, but aliens? No, not a chance. I have seen many odd things, but nothing to support such an outlandish theory."

John knew he shouldn't; he _absolutely_ knew better, but he just couldn't help himself, "Yes, but you _saw_ it with your own eyes..."

Sherlock sent John a withering stare that stopped the Doctor in his tracks, "Oh, _please_ , John. I do not have the patience to entertain your ridiculous fantasies. Will you please stick to the facts?"

John suppressed a groan of irritation and nodded jerkily, "Alright, fine. But we can at least agree that Thor has _legitimate_ abilities, can't we?" Sherlock nodded grudgingly, "Okay, then. Good. So, I repeat; you don't think he could have had anything to do with this, do you?"

Sherlock thought for a moment, "I'm not sure; it doesn't seem like his style. He wouldn't have dropped this man into an alleyway; he would have done it in broad daylight, in the middle of a busy street. He _likes_ the attention; he craves it. No, this was done by someone who very much prefers the shadows, someone who wants to keep their movements quiet."

John nodded, "Agreed. So, I suppose, what? Rule out the possible before trying to prove the improbable?"

Sherlock grinned toothily, "You're learning, Doctor. Well done. I don't think there's much more we can do here, honestly. There's not a whole lot of evidence here; Lestrade!"

The Inspector hurried over, "So, what do you think?"

Sherlock stood with his hands in the pockets of his ever-present calf-length coat, staring up at the sky, "I think that is a very long fall." Lestrade looked puzzled, "I am going to need you to check for the flight paths and passenger manifolds of any planes that may have passed overhead at...Oh, say about two o'clock this morning, if you please, Lestrade. Is that an accurate time of death, do you think, Doctor?"

John stared at the corpse for a long moment, thinking hard, "Yeah, I think that should do. Between two and two-thirty, I should say, but I'm betting on about...two-o-five A.M."

Lestrade stared at him in astonishment, "What? You're getting as odd as _he_ is!"

John chuckled, "No, it's just his watch...Analog...It says two-o-five. So, either the watch stopped right _before_ he died, or right _after_. Just a thought. Anyway, I think we've done all we can right now; do us a favor and send all you can find on those flight paths and corresponding manifests, please? I'd way within, what? A twenty-mile radius?"

Sherlock grinned, "Precisely."

Lestrade ran a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Okay, so the flight path and passenger manifests I get, but why a twenty-mile radius?"

Sherlock and John exchanged a look that clearly said _he can't really be_ _ **that**_ _stupid, can he_ before Sherlock responded with heavy condescension, "Because, Inspector, a body dropped from an airplane is hardly going to fall in a straight line. It is far more likely that the body will be blown off course by the wind, not to mention the velocity with which the plane would have been moving; that's bound to throw off his trajectory a little. Don't be specific with the size of the plane; we're looking for _any_ size plane. Run along now, Lestrade; let Mummy and Daddy get some work done." John snorted out a laugh which he hastily turned into a cough before Lestrade groaned at the pair of them and stomped off, grumbling under his breath.

"You know, you didn't have to be _quite_ so rude to him just there."

Sherlock shrugged off the gentle rebuke, "Yes, I know. But it was more fun this way."

John chuckled as they headed towards the street, hailing for a cab to 221b Baker Street. The pair sat silently in the back of the cab, both thinking over what they had seen, until Sherlock said curiously, "And how _exactly_ do I resemble an overgrown bat?"

John stared at his friend for a moment before his jaw fell open, "You...you _heard_ me!? Why...you...Why didn't you say anything then!?"

Sherlock grinned at the flabbergasted look on his best friend's face, "You're surprised? I was focused, not temporarily deaf, John." John fell silent and glared at his companion for the remainder of the cab ride. At last, they arrived at 221b Baker Street. Sherlock took out his keys, jingling them slightly, still deep in thought, as he fitted them into the lock.

They stepped in, and immediately Mrs. Hudson bustled out of the tiny downstairs kitchen, "Hello, boys! Have a nice time?"

John suppressed a smile, "It was a murder scene, Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock, however, took a far different approach, "A great deal of fun, Mrs. Hudson! It was terribly gruesome – his brains were splattered all over the pavement. Nothing made sense, and the theories range from the impossible to the highly unlikely! I haven't had this much fun since Moriarty! I can't _wait_ to see where this case goes."

Mrs. Hudson nodded genially, "That's nice, dear. Would you care for a spot of tea?"

John turned his back, trying desperately to keep his shoulders from shaking while he laughed silently while Sherlock responded, utterly nonplussed, "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, but I believe we'll take our tea in our flat. This is going to be one _hell_ of a case!"

Sherlock turned to lunge out of the room and up the stairs, but Mrs. Hudson called out, "Oh, Sherlock? I almost forgot; your handsome friend is waiting in your flat. He said you'd be expecting him, so I just let him up. I hope you don't mind."

Sherlock froze and turned slowly with his head cocked slightly to the side, "So sorry, Mrs. Hudson. It seems the appointment slipped my mind. Which handsome friend?"

Mrs. Hudson giggled, "Oh, you know the one, you sly fox! He's tall, blond, blue eyes, _incredibly_ well-muscled...Is he your boyfriend?"

Sherlock smiled kindly at her, "Ah, yes. I completely forgot; he's an old friend of Mycroft's. He said he was coming by later, at Mycroft's bequest, to see how I was doing. I was so excited by the case that it was pushed utterly from my mind. Sadly, no; he is not my boyfriend, though as John has told you on many occasion, neither of us is now, or has ever been gay. Thank you for letting me know, Mrs. Hudson; I shouldn't keep him waiting. John and I will go up and see him right away. Good afternoon."

Mrs. Hudson sighed, "Oh, I know, boys. But I can keep hoping, can't I? It's just that you make such a nice couple." She waved and tittered to herself as they made their way up the stairs to their flat.

Halfway up the stairs, John grabbed Sherlock by the elbow, "Are you going to explain to me why you just _lied_ to Mrs. Hudson?"

Sherlock turned and glanced down the stairway before answering in a whisper, "Yes, of course. I just wanted to be sure Mrs. Hudson wouldn't overhear. I was not expecting anyone, but this timing cannot be coincidental. This _must_ have something to do with the death in the alleyway. It's just too perfect; also, think about the description she gave us: Tall, blond, blue eyes, handsome...To me, it sounds an awful lot like the man we were just examining. That makes _two_ coincidences."

John nodded, "Yes, I was thinking the same thing. How should we handle this, do you think?"

Sherlock furrowed his brow for a moment, "Genially, I think. We shouldn't become aggressive unless we feel threatened. Who knows; this man may well be the murderer." John nodded and followed Sherlock up the rest of the way up the stairs, pausing for only a moment to open the door. They heard movement in the sitting room, and altered their course accordingly. As promised, an enormous, incredibly handsome man was sitting on their sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his right ankle resting lazily on his left knee. The moment his "hosts" had entered the room, he stood, towering easily over both John (which was not so remarkable) _and_ Sherlock (which was a great deal more impressive). The three men stood observing each other for a long moment before Sherlock smoothly slid his "people are in my home and it's time to be pleasant" face, "Good afternoon. Would you care for a cup of tea?" The man raised an eyebrow and nodded. Sherlock gave a formal half-bow and sauntered casually into the kitchen, returning with a pot of fresh tea and three cups. The three men sat, sipping tea, each party staring at the other. At last, Sherlock spoke, "So; you informed our landlady of your presence, therefore I cannot believe that you intend to harm us – it would be far more expedient to sneak in and sneak back out again once we were dead. So, what is it that you want?"

The man smiled a wide, toothy grin, "You're quite right, Mr. Holmes. You see, I know of a certain...dead man that you were called in on this morning. I had, of course, heard your name before that; I have friends who live – well, have lived, to be precise – in the area, so they had told me of you. I am pleased to find that your reputation has not been exaggerated. As for what I want...I have come to request your assistance. It seems that a murder I have been investigating and this one are connected."

Sherlock leaned forward, setting aside his tea and leaning his elbows on his knees with his fingers forming a steeple. "Go on."

The mysterious man raised an eyebrow again before continuing, "Ah, I see I have your attention. Good. My home is a good distance away from here; I would be much obliged if you would accompany me. Of course, you should inform your good Inspector...Lestrade, was it?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "It was, yes. Very well; John, please call the Inspector and let him know where we are going."

John made an indignant noise, "What? Why me?"

Sherlock gave John a look that generally meant he was being unusually dense, "Because you actually _like_ people. I don't."

John conceded, "Good point."

He was gone for only a moment as he explained to Lestrade where they were going, and returned just in time to hear Sherlock ask, "So, where are we going? And would it be rude to ask for your name?"

The man blinked, "I apologize, Mr. Holmes; it seems my manners have been lax. My name is Thor, and we are heading to Asgard."

***Author's Note***

Wheeee! That didn't take long! This should be fun, though...Hmmm who could be behind the murders...? hehehe. Thanks for reading, my friends!


	2. Chapter 2

***Author's Note***

Good afternoon, all! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. This story is proving to be unexpectedly easy to write; I hope you're enjoying it, also. This chapter, Sherlock gets a bit of a rude awakening; hope you like it!

***End Note***

For a moment, Sherlock was taken aback. He thought he'd heard the words "Thor" and "Asgard" in the same sentence, but that was impossible; there was no such thing as alien worlds...was there? No, he must have misheard. John, meanwhile was standing beside him looking somewhat perplexed, but then everyone usually looked that way to Sherlock. "I'm sorry, forgive me; my ears must have malfunctioned. What did you say your name was?"

The man turned and smirked at him, "Thor. From Asgard? You heard me properly, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock shook his head stubbornly, "No, that's impossible. You are having a go at us, and I, for one, am not amused. Though it would seem that _you_ are. Why is that?"

Thor chuckled, "Let's just say this isn't the first time I've come across your reaction. Your reputation once again precedes you. You're a man of science, yes?" At Sherlock's nod, Thor continued, "Then allow me to offer you some proof of my claims. If you would indulge me for but a moment, and step outside...?" Thor stood with his left hand stretched to the side, offering to allow Sherlock to go first.

Sherlock grunted and shrugged, "Oh, very well. This should be entertaining, at any rate. Come along, Watson!" Sherlock made his way swiftly out of the room and down the stairs, John stumbling numbly along behind him. Sherlock didn't stop moving until he was in the middle of the street; luckily, today happened to be a slow day, traffic-wise, and Baker Street was, for the moment, utterly deserted. "Well, then, go ahead; where is your proof?"

Thor chortled at the man, "You're going to regret that in a moment, I think." Thor warned as he looked up at the sky, "Heimdall! I am ready to return; open the Bifrost." Thor spared a glance over his shoulder for the look of sheer irritation on Sherlock's face, giggling inwardly with glee as he heard the telltale boom-roar sound of the Bifrost engaging, then there was a sudden burst of light, the sensation of being _stretched_ for a moment before snapping back to your normal shape, only to be hurtled through space like a javelin. Thor stepped calmly through the gate to Asgard, standing with his arms crossed and feet hip-width apart while Sherlock and John fell through the Bifrost, collapsing into a heap on the ground. "See? Proof."

For the first time since they had met, John had the unsurpassed pleasure of seeing Sherlock not only entirely speechless, but baffled as well. His jaw hung open in the most undignified way and he had the distinct look of a man who was rapidly re-adjusting his views on the universe. John took a quick glance in Thor's direction, quickly glancing away again when he saw the enormous smirk on the demigod's face. "Um, Sherlock...I can't help but notice...We don't seem to be on Earth anymore..."

John's sarcastic quip seemed to snap Sherlock out of his state of shock and he wheeled around to glare at the shorter man, "Yes, _thank_ you, Watson. _Brilliant_ deduction. I believe I can _see_ that."

John continued to grin evilly at the detective, "Oh, I know you can. I was just wondering how it feels."

Sherlock faltered for a moment, "How _what_ feels, Watson?"

Watson's grin widened, "How it feels to be proved completely and utterly wrong in such a devastating manner. I mean, you _are_ the one who was saying that there is absolutely no possibility of intelligent life on other planets. In all the time I've known you, you have never once been wrong, and now, you have been given incontrovertible proof that you. Are. Wrong. So, don't hold back. How do you _feel_ right now?"

To John's complete satisfaction, Sherlock's face turned a mottled sort of red and his eyes narrowed to slits before Sherlock balled up his fist and snapped it forward, directly into John's nose, sending the former soldier sprawling. John growled in fury and launched to his feet, promptly returning the blow and sending _Sherlock_ sprawling. The man scrambled to his feet, still glaring and bellowed, "You are an _infuriating_ little man!"  
John huffed in anger and bellowed right back, as close to Sherlock's face as he could manage, given the height difference, "And you are an irritating, arrogant, self-centered _asshole_!"

The two men stood glaring at each other, panting for a long moment until Sherlock took a deep breath and said, quite calmly, "Shall we take a look around, then?"

John stood staring at his best friend for a moment, deciding whether or not he wanted to punch him again. Slowly, the scowl cleared from his face and his breathing steadied and he shrugged, "Yeah, alright."

Heimdall, who had been watching the exchange with great amusement turned his all-seeing gaze on Sherlock, "Good morning, Sherlock. It is good to finally meet you. It was I who recommended you to His Majesty."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "The King? Interesting...So, I am to be under the employ of Odin, am I correct?"

Heimdall smiled, "Correct. It is good to see that your shock has not hampered your inherent intelligence. You are a most intriguing human, if I may permitted to say so."

Sherlock smirked, "Well, as you already have, I suppose you already know that I never turn aside adoration. What I would like to know is _how_ , exactly, you know so much about me?"

The statuesque Asgardian raised an eyebrow, "I am the Gatekeeper. As such, I am gifted with the ability to peer into all corners of the galaxy. I can see and hear anything that I desire, or deem necessary. You have proven, unlike many humans, to be most entertaining. I have most enjoyed watching you as your career has progressed; you manage to grasp things that leave your fellow humans utterly lost. Your mind is a fascinating one."

Sherlock blinked in surprise, "So...You've been watching me."

Heimdall inclined his head regally, "For your entire life; you and your brother Mycroft, as well. You remind me a bit of Thor and Loki."

Sherlock raised his brow again, "Well, I shall take that as a compliment. Shall I be meeting Loki, as well?"

His words were like the dropping of a stone in a pond; where once all had been calm and still, suddenly the room was filled with anxious shuffling and tension, "My brother is...dead, unfortunately. He died saving the woman I love."

John kicked Sherlock lightly to keep him from further upsetting the Asgardians; anyone who had known Sherlock for _any_ amount of time knew that sympathy and tact were _not_ two of the man's strongest traits. Before Sherlock could recover, John quickly said, "Our most sincere apologies; we were not aware. Also, please allow me to offer our condolences, your Majesty."

Thor smiled at the doctor, "Thank you, Doctor Watson. You know, I've been wondering why it is that Mr. Holmes keeps you around, but I think I finally understand. For all that you are well-versed in the healing arts of Earth, indeed you are a master of them for certain, it is clear – and forgive me for the insult – but it is clear that his intellect far outstrips your own. Now, though, I see that it is because socially, he is as outmatched by you as you are by his intellect."

John chuckled, "Well, I've never had anyone sum it up quite so _succinctly_ before, but yes. On occasion, I am able to see something medically that he would not have thought of immediately, but for the most part, I'm just there to act as a sort of buffer for the poor people who have to deal with him."

Sherlock's eyes crinkled as he broke out in his boyish smile, "That is true, yes, but you're forgetting the most important reason that I keep you around." John cocked his head curiously at the detective, "You're my best friend, John. In truth, the _only_ friend I've ever had. There are people I care about, of course, but most people don't... _understand_ me well enough to care the way you do. You are more my brother than Mycroft is – _he_ only cares because society dictates that he _must_. You, however, care because you _chose_ to, all those years ago. Therefore, I value your friendship far above any other relationship I have ever experienced."

John sniffed and cleared his throat, coughing once to give his eyes a moment to clear; it was rare that the detective ever admitted what John meant to him. Sherlock must be feeling far more insecure than John had realized if he was doing so now. "Oh, don't be an idiot," John replied gruffly, "Come on; we've got a case, haven't we? Move on, then."

Thor smirked but said nothing, and lead the two men across the repaired Rainbow Bridge and into the city proper. Sherlock and John stared about them, astonished at the beauty of the realm of Asgard. "I am sure that you are weary after your journey; therefore, I shall take you to the Dining Hall so that you may replenish yourselves before meeting with my father."

John cleared his throat nervously, "We're meeting with the King today? Oh, wonderful. Wish I'd known; I'd have worn something more appropriate."

Thor chuckled, "No need to be nervous; my father is a wise and kind man. His strength of spirit and character are quite beyond me; I hope someday to be as great a man as he, though the bar is set high. As for your manner of dress, have no worries; if it pleases you, we can clothe you in garments in our manner, which will be more appropriate for a meeting such as this."

John heaved a sigh of relief, "Thank you, Sire. That would be most kind."

Thor chuckled again and paused, turning to face the two men, "Please; call my Thor. You are not my father's subjects, and therefore have no need to be so formal with me. Besides, I have hope that we may yet be friends." Thor turned back to the empty hallway he was guiding them down and gestured to a massive pair of double-doors, "There, you will find food and ale to your hearts' content. I will change and meet you there for our meal; I believe you will find my friends more than willing to provide you with entertainment and conversation. For the moment, my new friends, farewell." Thor bowed and strode quickly back down the hallway, disappearing around the corner and leaving the two men standing in the hall, feeling somewhat out-of-place.

Before they could so much as catch their breath, the double-doors burst open and an enormous, ruddy-faced, shaggy man with arms like pythons and legs like tree trunks stood with a hand on each door and his legs spread wide. "Good morrow, dear friends! Please, do not be afraid; come in, come in!" John and Sherlock exchanged a dubious glance, shrugged simultaneously, and trudged up the hall and through the open doors, suddenly far more weary than they had realized. "Very good, very good! I am Volstagg," he pointed to a man of medium height and serious demeanor of clear Asian descent, a blond, arrogant man of slightly taller stature and jovial mood, and a beautiful woman with eyes like a predator and the casual fluidity of a panther. Pointing to each in turn, Volstagg declared, "These are Hogun, Fandral, and the Lady Sif. Together, we are Lady Sif and the Warriors Three," he finished magnificently, puffing out his chest proudly.

John laid a hand on Sherlock's arm, warning him to be silent, "Good morrow; forgive me if I seem rude, but I have a few...concerns. Like you, I was once a soldier; I served as a Doctor for the army – a Healer, to you. I have heard that Asgardians differ greatly from humans in terms of your code of conduct. I am not concerned for myself, but rather for my friend. You see, he is what's referred to on Earth as a high-functioning sociopath, meaning that while he is, obviously, of _enormous_ intellect, he neither realizes, nor even _cares_ when he is breaking the rules of society. It's not that he _intends_ to be rude or insulting; it's more that the price he pays for his massive intellect is to be crippled, socially speaking. Therefore, I would beg your patience and indulgence and ask that you strive not to take insult when – note, I say _when_ , and not _if_ – he insults you."

The three men turned to look at Lady Sif, who smiled kindly and answered, "Have no fear, my friend. As one warrior to another, I thank you for your consideration. It is not many that would seek forgiveness in advance for their friend's slight." Her gaze became thoughtful, as though she were weighing the men who stood before her, "Very well, Healer. I will honor your request, and we will do our best not to take offense at your friend's – ah – _unique_ mannerisms."

John gave Sherlock a pointed look, followed by a sharp jab in the ribs. Sherlock twitched slightly, then spoke haltingly, "Ah...Thank you...I believe that is customary, is it not?" At John's irritated glare, Sherlock continued, "What? Not enough? Alright, _fine_. I greatly appreciate your kindness, Lady Sif...There. Does _that_ satisfy you?"

The "gratitude" had obviously been highly rehearsed, and came off as very stiff and insincere. Lucky for them, Sif merely smiled and inclined her head graciously, "You are most welcome. Now, please; come take a seat and have something to eat. The Bifrost is rather...shocking the first time. Once you are comfortable, you can tell us your names; unfortunately, while we knew Thor was heading to earth to retrieve someone to help us with our...problem...we don't know anything about you. If you wouldn't mind a little company, we would be more than happy to offer conversation." She waited expectantly for their answer.

As John and Sherlock took their seats, the latter surprised the former by speaking first, "Not at all, Lady Sif. I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my associate, Doctor John Watson. As a matter of fact, I think you may be able to help _us_. Unfortunately, it would seem that we possess even less information than you do. What 'problem' are we here to help with, exactly?"

The femme fatal raised an eyebrow, "You mean you don't know?" She exchanged a worried glance with her warriors, "Well in that case, forgive me if it seems rude or evasive, but if Thor did not tell you anything, then I believe it would be best for us to remain silent until he joins us and give you the details."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, ever so slightly, "Interesting. When we are finished eating and have been given a change of clothes, Thor is taking us to meet Odin."

Sif's eyes widened, "He's taking you to the King? This must be far more serious than we originally assumed."

Sherlock nodded slightly, "Yes, I rather thought it might be. It seems that I was recommended by Heimdall, specifically for the position."

The woman's eyes narrowed again, "Well then I'd say we are in excellent hands. I trust the Gatekeeper's judgment, though why he felt it necessary to bring in a human...Then again, Jane Foster is human, as are the Avengers, for the most part, and they have proven themselves to be exceptionally resourceful. If Heimdall chose you, then I am sure you will do well, Sherlock."

Sherlock sat back slightly, leaning away from Sif, "Most interesting. Thank you; you have been most helpful."

The warrioress cocked her head at him, "Oh? How so?"

John groaned slightly, "You may well regret asking that question in a moment."

Sherlock's eyes became lit from within by a kind of glee as he began, "Well, Odin is clearly the great power here, and _yet_ , you all value your Gatekeeper's advice above all others'. That tells me that he has most likely held the position for a very long time, _possibly_ since before the current king. Also, it tells me that you have complete faith in him that for all of his formidable gifts, he would never betray his people or his king. Furthermore, the fact that you know something about what has brought us here but refuse to tell us anything about it, that tells me that this 'problem' of yours has far-reaching consequences, possibly even spreading to other worlds, since you brought in someone from Earth. If you had not been terribly concerned about the galaxy as a whole, you would have been more patient; as I understand it, Asgardians live for thousands of Earth years. Also, I see that you twist your hands when you speak, so you harbor some sense of guilt; whatever this is about, I wager it is an item of great value or power, and you yourself had something to do with it. Now, I was told there was a murder, and now I guess that whoever was killed knew something about the whatever-it-is that you won't tell me about. Am I anywhere in the vicinity of correct?"

Sif and her warriors sat back, watching Sherlock with new respect and astonishment, "Yes, Sherlock; you are exactly right. I must confess that I am impressed. I see now why Heimdall chose you. You spoke truly, John, when you said he had a great intellect. Asgardians are not used to being read like the pages of a book. Your friend is truly remarkable."

John nodded, "Yes, I know. The sad thing is, so does he."

The warriors laughed and began to pass around food and drink. "Be careful of the ale," Fandral warned with a carelessly arrogant laugh, "It was made for Asgardians, not humans. I would take an extremely small amount at a time if I were you; we wouldn't want to present you to His Majesty the King with fuzzy heads, now would we?"

Sherlock cast a sidelong glance at the cocky blond, "No, I hardly think that would be advisory. Tell me; are you accustomed to women swooning over you, or must you put something in their drinks to make you seem as irresistible as you clearly think you are?"

Fandral's eyes popped wide with surprise while Hogun hide his small smile behind his hand and Volstagg roared with laughter, "He's got you there, Fandral! A more cocky fool I've never known, but his wit is as quick as his sword."

Fandral tipped his head towards Sherlock, "Well done, my friend; it is not often that I am caught off guard by such a quip. It would seem that I have met a tongue that is a match in sharpness for my own!"

John chuckled, "Yes, _that_ one was amusing; sometimes they are, but not all of them are. Honestly, Sherlock, what's gotten into you today? You're not as cranky as you usually are."

Sherlock gave his friend a frank stare, "I'm not bored." He simply said with a shrug.  
Just then, the double-doors opened again and Thor entered, dressed in his usual armor and flowing red cape, "It gladdens my heart to see you all getting on so well, my friends. As soon as you are finished, I have some fresh clothes for you; my father awaits you in the throne room. The meal was quickly finished, with John and Sherlock drinking more water than they did ale, and Thor ushered them off to change their clothes. Before long, they had found a pair of rooms that had clearly been reserved for them. John and Sherlock changed into the new clothing as quick as they could, getting mixed up once or twice. John felt fairly silly as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had been given clothes that were clearly Asgardian, though he did like the shade of green. He had to admit the clothes were comfortable and the boots well-fitted, though he _did_ wish they had seen fit to forego the ridiculous cape that draped gently across his chest and down his back to mid-calf.

He sighed and left the room, finding Sherlock waiting for him. The man looked, as ever, effortlessly perfect in the Asgardian garb. His, though, was a dark shade of crimson; it suited him, John thought, and he didn't even seem to mind the cape. Besides, it would show far less blood this way, and given that Sherlock always found himself hip-deep in it eventually, anyway, John supposed it was for the best. Thor gave them a once-over and nodded, "Much better. My father's throne room is this way," he gestured in the opposite direction from which they had come, and off they went, John nearly having to run to keep up with the two taller men.

At last, they slowed and entered a massive hall that was lavishly decorated in black, gold, and white. On a vast podium at the far end, standing at the top of a large flight of stairs, stood the regal Odin, watching them with a gaze that was stern, welcoming, and weighing all at once. There was no question that this man was a king, descended from a long line of kings. "Sherlock Holmes and John Watson," he said grandly as the pair neared him, "You are most welcome in Asgard, gentlemen. Please, walk with me." With that, the older man made his way down the stairs and swept out into the hall to the right of his throne, his grand cape billowing out behind him, not pausing to wait for the three who hurried towards him. Idly, Sherlock wondered what new revelations would be unveiled.

***Author's Note***

Oh, I couldn't resist the sarcasm between John and Sherlock; their relationship is just so much fun to write for! I love the scene with Lady Sif and her warriors; sooo much fun! I've been amusing myself with this story so far, but it's going to get serious, and soon! I'm not sure how long this story will be, possibly not as long as my previous stories, but we'll see. I _was_ planning to write an Avatar story after this, but I think instead, I'm going to do a Vision/Scarlet Witch romance next. Those two are one of my favorite couples _ever_...I ship them ridiculously hard. Anywho, Hopefully I'll have another chapter for you tomorrow. Thanks for reading, and please leave a review, let me know what you think! I value your opinions (even the negative ones) more than you could possibly know! Lots of love!


	3. Chapter 3

***Author's Note***

Well, here's chapter three for you! Now, things are going to start making sense as far as who's behind this little mystery of ours! I hope you're enjoying the story so far; I've never written a mystery before, and I've never written for Sherlock or Thor before. Anywho, enjoy!

***End Note***

Thor, Sherlock, and John hurried after Odin, soon catching him up and matching his stride. The four men walked in silence for a time, until they reached a pair of elegant doors that led onto a quiet balcony with a beautiful panoramic view of Asgard. John began to squirm, but Sherlock laid a gentle hand on his friend's arm, cautioning him to be patient. At long last, their patience was rewarded when the Allfather sighed, "I have been king for a very long time. I have seen wars you could not imagine, worlds you would never dream of, and I have lost more than you will ever comprehend, but also have I gained a great deal. Never have I seen a time such as this, however. I'm afraid that Asgard is in peril from an unseen enemy. It stalks us in our sleep, murders us from the shadows, and more. At first, I was not overly worried about these events, but lately...Lately, they have taken a darker, more insidious turn for the worst."

Sherlock cleared his throat delicately and Odin turned to him, intelligence bright in his one remaining eye as he inclined his head, granting Sherlock permission to speak. "Forgive me, Your Highness," he began with uncharacteristic respect, "But why, exactly, am I here? I have already deduced that something extremely dangerous has been stolen from you. It must have some modicum of power, or is of great worth, as someone is clearly willing to kill for it. Further, whatever this is, it clearly has Your Highness frightened. Whatever it is, it occurs to me to wonder why it is that you cannot handle it yourself."

Odin cocked his head to the side for a moment and nodded to himself in satisfaction, "I see that rank holds little fear for you, Sherlock Holmes. Good. You are about to step into a world of myths and legends that you have considered only pretty stories until now. You are correct, Mr. Holmes; something _has_ been stolen, and it presents a danger to the entire galaxy. The man that you found this morning was one of the few besides Lady Sif and her Warriors that knew the location of the object in question – save, of course, the man into whose keeping the object was entrusted. There were four others: Thor, Heimdahl, one other guard, and – of course – myself. The second guard was found dead three days ago in a manner identical to the man on Earth. No one else that was involved has been harmed or even _annoyed_ in the slightest." Odin turned back to Sherlock with an odd gleam in his eye, "I must confess, it seems odd."

Sherlock shrugged, "Not really. Obviously, your murderous thief does not want any alarms raised as to his identity. It seems to me that he has thus far strayed from anyone who may prove too much of a challenge for him, and he has killed the only two who had seen his face. Obviously, he is someone that is well-known to you, or they would most likely still be alive."

John nodded, "I thought you might say that. Whoever they are, they have a fondness for theatrics. These men could easily have been killed – and tortured, if I'm right – in a far less spectacular manner, but the perpetrator obviously preferred to draw as much attention as he could. They were left somewhere that they would quickly and easily be found, and left them in such a way as to cause questions. I have no doubt that our men on Earth will soon find a number of wounds and bruises confirming my torture theory. That tells me that he was looking for information, obviously regarding your stolen object. Also, I've noticed that you have not yet told Sherlock why it is that he's here, which tells me that you're out of your depth. You may be great warriors, and obviously you dearly love peace and order, but you're not exactly the greatest of intellectual thinkers, so you needed someone known for his mental capabilities, but not someone who would be hampered by authority, or in this case, a King straight out of legend. Then there's the fact that your Gatekeeper is all-seeing. This threat must be great, indeed, if someone would go to such lengths as to find a way to blind and deafen him to what is truly going on. Yes, I'd have to say you're very much out of your depth, and I doubt you would call on someone you see as indispensable, either – therefore, Sherlock was called. He fits all the criteria: His mind operates at a level far exceeding anyone on Earth – maybe on other planets, as well – he is not hampered by Kings or the like, and he is – to you, at least – indispensable. Am I right, Your Highness?"

Odin turned his ice-blue gaze on John, with an oddly surprised look, "I thought it was Sherlock that was the detective? My impression was that you are only moral support, as it were."

Sherlock bristled slightly and narrowed his eyes like he did when something started to click together, "He has attributes of his own, Sire. We either work together, or not at all." Odin nodded slightly, and Sherlock continued, "Very well, then. There is one further thing that I have noticed: Not once have you named this thing. It's been 'the object' or 'the item in question', but never have you named it. So. What, exactly, are we chasing after here?"

Odin took a deep breath, and he seemed to age in front of their eyes, "It's called an Infinity Stone. There are six altogether, but at this point in time, we only know the whereabouts of four. At least, we did until one of them was stolen recently. These stones have power that you cannot begin to comprehend – the one in question, the Reality Stone, allows its bearer to warp reality until it is no longer recognizable. It was taken from our most terrible enemy, and we hid it away with a man by the name of Taneleer Tivan, better known to the rest of the galaxy as The Collector. He is one of the few surviving members of the first race in the entire galaxy – the beginnings of life, so to speak. He is immortal, and has seen billions of years. The true name of his species has long since been forgotten; they are now simply called the Elders. He is _not_ a man to be trifled with, and he is known for guarding his collection jealously, so that someone was able to steal from _him_ with all of his powers is extremely disturbing. You see, The Collector possesses the power of Foresight, so how someone even managed to _plan_ the extraction without his knowledge boggles the mind. Given that you are who you are, Tivan may find you interesting enough to help you. Our plan is to send you and Thor to his... _shop_ , for lack of a better word, and have you take a look at the scene of the theft. Perhaps you will be able to shed some light on this situation."

Sherlock nodded, "Most wise, Your Highness. I have but a few questions further, though the most pressing on my mind is this: How did you hear this news if Tivan is not on this planet?"

Odin smiled, "He called us, of course, once he discovered the theft. He made some vague reference to an accident, and stated that it had caused quite the mess, and by the time he'd finished sorting things out, the Stone was gone."

"Ah," Sherlock said, "Forgive me; I am unfamiliar with interstellar technologies. Second question: Where is Tivan located?"

"A place called Knowhere. It's not exactly a planet; in all honesty, it's a severed head that is equipped with artificial gravity and air for a number of species, not to mention some of the rarest, most valuable substances in the entire galaxy."

John paled somewhat, "Oh, wonderful. It's a giant, floating skull. That sounds safe."

Sherlock ignored his friend's apprehension, "Lovely. One last question: How are we getting there?"

Odin grinned a slightly unpleasant grin, "Why, by Bifrost, of course."  
"Damn," said Sherlock, "Of course we are. Alright, then; off we pop!" Sherlock cast a significant glance in John's direction as they bowed and left the Allfather to his thoughts on the balcony. Sherlock held up a finger as they headed towards the Bifrost, and kept up his strange silence until they were standing beside Heimdahl, "Well, it's been a pleasure, Heimdahl. I'm sure that we will be seeing you soon," With another significant glance, this time at the Gatekeeper, Sherlock jerked his chin towards the Bifrost, "I trust you know where we're going?"

Heimdahl inclined his head, "Of course, Mr. Holmes. Just step through." Just then, the Gatekeeper thrust his enormous broadsword into a slot in the floor of the raised platform he stood on and twisted, opening the Bifrost.

Sherlock nodded at him and stepped quickly through, his jaw clenched the whole way. Just as suddenly as before, the ground fell away from them, and suddenly they were hurtling through space. This time, when the Bifrost deposited them, John and Sherlock managed to keep their feet, much to their relief; just in front of them stood a crowd of beings – some human, others distinctly _not_. Every one of them was staring at the new arrivals, and as they stepped forward, the crowd parted instantly, leaving them plenty of room to make their way forward. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and glanced at Thor, who shook his head slightly, indicating that they should remain silent, and made his way forward. As he passed by, many bowed, while others seemed to shrink away from him in fear. At last, they had made their way through the crowd and found a small establishment that seemed to serve humanoids. Thor quickly ducked in and ordered a round of drinks for them. It wasn't until they sat at an out-of-the-way table that Thor breathed a sigh of relief and spoke, "Forgive me, my friends. This place is not safe for many, which is why my father sent me along with you. Many of the people here know of Asgardians, and many are, shall we say, less than fond. However, more well known is Thor, and many more fear me more than they dislike my people. I am known across the galaxy as one of the mightiest warriors that has been seen in recent years, and none dare to risk my wrath, or that of my father. My purpose is not only to serve as guide, but as protection."

Sherlock nodded, "Yes, I thought it might be something like that. John, I noticed something rather odd while we were talking to Odin."

John glanced apprehensively at his friend, "Thor isn't going to like this, is he?"

Sherlock shook his head, "No, decidedly not. Odin is hiding something. He knows more than he's letting on, and I fear that it may be to our detriment. Whatever game it is that's really going on here, we seem to have found ourselves a few dozen important steps behind the key players. Oh, yes, John! We've stumbled onto a most intriguing case, indeed! Yes, the game is most definitely afoot!"

John sighed, "I'm sorry about him; he gets excited and forgets himself when we have a particularly confounding case. He doesn't mean any insult."

Thor held up a hand and shook his head, "I'm not insulted, Doctor. Tell me, Sherlock; what do you mean?"

Sherlock sipped at his drink and sat back, ruminating for a moment, "There was an odd gleam in his eye while he was talking to us; I can't be certain, but I think your father may be involved somehow in the item's disappearance. I can't quite put my finger on it just yet, but your father seemed a little... _off_ to me, somehow. As a matter of fact, if I am correct, your father might not even _be_ your father. There may well be an impostor sitting on the throne of Asgard."

John's jaw dropped and he stared, absolutely aghast, at his friend, "Sherlock! Think about what you're saying!" Turning to Thor, he quickly stumbled into an apology, "I am _so_ sorry, Thor. Forgive him; he gets a bit... _wrapped up_ in his cases. He doesn't mean anything by it, honestly. I don't know what's gotten into him of late."  
But Thor didn't answer; he didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow in John's direction. Instead, he sat staring at a spot that was just over Sherlock's left shoulder, seeming to be deep in thought. "Hmm," he said, "That might actually not be so far-fetched. My father hasn't seemed himself for some time now; at first, I thought it was the loss of my mother and my brother, Loki, but now I'm not so certain."

Sherlock sat forward, his eyes sharp with attention, "Explain," he commanded while John sat back, listening intently.

Thor began haltingly, "Well...I can't be certain...It's just that he's been a little _strange_ of late. For example, he would normally have called for you much earlier than he did. He has never been one to stand on foolish pride – that was always me. Also, he's been very secretive over the last few months. He's been short of temper, which is highly abnormal for him, and then there's how he's been treating the guards...I thought it was just his grief. I know everyone deals with death and anger differently, but there were a few times when I thought he was being a bit extreme, but I never once questioned him. Perhaps I ought to have." Thor trailed off into silence, leaving Sherlock looking thoughtful.

John leaned forward and took a sip of his drink, "What are you thinking, Sherlock? And be quick; we seem to have attracted a crowd..."

Without looking around, Sherlock continued, "I have no idea who our impostor might be, nor where the _real_ Odin might be. However, what I _can_ say is that whoever our impostor is, he has placed himself in a most dangerous position – for _us_. Tell me, Thor; is there anyone who has tried to wrest the throne from your father?"  
Thor began to shake his head, but paused, "Only one. Loki. But as I already told you, he's dead."

Sherlock's head twisted slightly to the side as he asked, "Are you sure?"

Thor began to answer but stopped, his eyes suddenly going wide, "I was, but now I'm beginning to doubt my own memories. My brother was – _is_ – a master of illusion. He can change his own appearance so that he seems to be _anyone_. I've seen him do it before my eyes."

Sherlock smiled grimly, "Well, then who's to say he couldn't change someone else's appearance and make it _seem_ as though he had died?"

Thor visibly paled, "Yes, I suppose it is more than possible. If your theory is correct, then I will have words with my brother. I don't think I could forgive him this time. I watched him die in my arms; whatever else he is, he is still my brother." Just then, the crowd that had gathered near their table seemed to surge towards them. Thor leaped onto the table and snatched up his hammer that hung, ever-present, from his belt, and began to twirl it. "Go; run, get out of here! I'll be right behind you!" John needed no further urging; he grabbed Sherlock by the elbow and sprinted through the crowd, dragging a protesting Sherlock with him. As soon as they were clear, Thor's hammer flew through the wall, sending people flying as it struck them. The hammer returned to Thor's hand, and he twirled it again, this time flying through the hole he'd made in the wall, to land beside John and Sherlock, "Come; we should get out of here. The Collector is this way."

The three men hurried off in the direction that Thor had indicated, making their way quickly through the crowds. Before long, they had found the place that Thor told them belonged to The Collector, only there was no shop. All that remained was the ramshackle remains of a storefront. The doors had been blown off from the inside, and the contents of the shop were blackened and burnt. "Well," said John, "This might make things a bit more difficult."

***Author's Note***

Oh, yay! This story is so much fun. ^_^ I'm really enjoying myself, and I hope y'all are, too. I'm thinking this one's going t be a great deal shorter than my other stories, but I'm just not sure yet. Either way, I'm glad that there are some of y'all out there that are interested in this topic. Thanks for reading, and please leave your thoughts in the reviews section! Lots of love.


	4. Chapter 4

***Author's Note***

Good Morning, friends! I'm glad you seem to be enjoying this one; I'm writing it purely for fun. I'm really enjoying the change of pace; it's doing wonders for my writing. Hope you're enjoying it as much as I am! You're going to see some familiar faces in this chapter, but they're not going to play a major role. Enjoy!

***End Note***

Thor stared in disbelief at the still-smoking wreckage, "I don't understand. What could possibly have happened here?"

Sherlock, however, was neither looking at nor listening to Thor; he was busy staring at the people who hurried past, resolutely avoiding eye contact with Thor and his company. "I wonder..." he said quietly to himself as he walked away and into the crowd.

"Sherlock?" called John, then tapped Thor on the shoulder to catch his attention. The two men followed after Sherlock, seeing him disappear into what looked like some form of night club. Hastening their steps, they managed to enter the club just in time to see Sherlock sit at a table opposite the strangest-looking being John had ever seen.

The man (at least, John _thought_ it was a man) had brilliant green hair, which John would have thought was dyed had it not been for the fact that his skin was the shade of a fresh-picked apple. He had needle-sharp teeth and eyes that matched the color of his hair and a thin, weak-looking physique that was nearly sexless. As John stared at him, the man's skin and hair suddenly changed to resemble that of a human's. John and Thor stopped beside the table just in time to hear the man say, "There. Is that better?"

Sherlock gratefully inclined his head, "Yes, thank you. My colleague here is unused to species besides our own; I, myself, was only recently forced to accept that the generally-accepted ideas of our planet being the only inhabited one in the universe was a _blatant_ fallacy. John, this is Allahir; he is a Chameleon. Now, I saw you watching us just now, and I saw you change so that you could disappear in the crowd. I take it that you have information for us." Sherlock steepled his fingers and waited patiently for the answer.

Allahir nodded and spoke with a high-pitched voice that sputtered and hissed and made people stare, "Yes, I have some information for you. _He_ told me that should anyone come looking, tell them what happened." Sherlock laid a hand on John's arm, who'd been about to speak and gestured with his other hand that Allahir should continue. The man's brow furrowed in thought for a moment, "A few weeks ago, our...mutual _friend_ had some visitors. They caused quite a bit of trouble, I can tell you. They had business with him; I don't know exactly what it was that they brought him, but whatever it was, they took it with them. Whatever it was, it was dangerous...and powerful. While they were inside, something made the whatever-it-was go off. They barely made it out, and our mutual friend was left inside. He stayed in there for a few more days, then he was seen rushing out, looking pretty scared. Now, you know as well as I do that _nothing_ scares that guy, bur for some reason, something did. He got out of there, made a few calls, then vanished. Personally, I still don't know how he survived the explosion; then again, I probably don't _want_ to know. Either way, he got off-planet real quick, and nobody's seen him since."

Sherlock frowned, "Who came to see him?"

Allahir shrugged, "They're a band of ragtag criminals that work together, sometimes doing good, sometimes doing bad, but usually a mix of the two. Call themselves The Guardians of the Galaxy. Could be they'd know where he went, but I doubt it. Either way, they're the only ones that know what happened that day."

John leaned in, "Where did they go; do you know?"

Allahir stared at John as though he were insane, "What? You didn't hear? They went across the galaxy to Xandar, where they fought Ronan the Accuser and stopped him from destroying Xandarian culture. I don't know how, but all I know is that the Nova Corps had a docket on each and every one of them; they were wanted all over the galaxy. After Xandar? All charges were _dropped_. The Nova Corps doesn't just _drop charges_ , so whatever they did, the stakes must have been higher even than just Xandar. No, they're not just your average criminals; they have _morals_ , which is strange to me, personally, but hey, if it works for them, right? Anyway, it was shortly after the events of Xandar that our _friend_ vanished. It seems to me that maybe the two have something in common."

Thor glanced at Sherlock and John, "Have you told anyone else this?" Allahir shook his head, "Good. Don't. Now, I need you to think; did anyone slip _into_ the shop after the Guardians left? Between the time of the explosion and our friend's vanishing, someone stole something that belongs to the Asgardians throne."

Allahir paled visibly, "Someone stole from _Asgardians_!? They must not have a wish to live very long. Give me a minute to think...Yes...Yes, it seems like someone _did_ slip in and out. He was carrying a small crate; it was metallic with a handle on top. The reason I remember is because of the _glow_. The crate glowed with an eerie red light; I'd never seen anything like it, except for that explosion a few days earlier."

Thor frowned, "Did you see the thief's face?"

Allahir shook his head, "No, I'm sorry. He wore a heavy cloak and a cowl over his face. What I _can_ tell you is that he was tall, and he moved with this...liquid grace that I've never seen before. And his voice..." Allahir shivered, "It was smooth as glass, cold as ice, and there was a venom hidden under layers of class. All he said to me was 'Say nothing'. Now I find out that something was stolen from _Asgardians_ , and he must be crazy to think I'll stay quiet!"

Thor nodded, "Thank you, my friend, for your bravery. I believe we will be looking for these Guardians now. Do you know where we might find them?"

Allahir shrugged, "I can't be sure, but I heard rumors that they were heading in the direction of Terra. I heard they got some sort of message; I don't know much about it, honestly. I _think_ you might find them at an outpost between here and Terra."

Sherlock nodded, "Very well, then. I have but one question remaining." Allahir turned towards Sherlock and blinked, "What do you look like? Normally, I mean. When you're _not_ trying to...blend in."

Allahir drew back in surprise, "What does my species look like naturally, you mean?"

John groaned, "I must apologize for my associate; he doesn't mean anything by it, honestly..." Before John finished speaking, there came an odd rippling-clicking sound as Allahir's skin began to shift slowly, prompting a surprised, "Eugh!" from John.

Allahir's natural form was distinctly lizard-like, as if someone had combined the DNA of a lizard and a human. Allahi was _massive_ , perhaps eight or nine feet tall. His skin was rough and pebbled, dark green in color. His eyes were a bright and vibrant green, the pupils vertical slits. When he blinked, it was side-to-side rather than top-to-bottom. He had a wide, flat mouth that was currently closed, hiding thin, sharp teeth and a wide, puffy tongue that made his smile seem vicious and threatening. There was no hair anywhere on his body; his arms were thick with corded muscles and his hands ended in dangerously sharp claws. Glancing downward, John and Sherlock saw that a long, thick reptilian tail protruded below the table, which allahir had curled as closely to his chair as was possible.

Without warning, Allahir smiled chuckled, "It is no insult to be curious regarding the unknown." Turning his gaze on John, his eyes softened with humor, "You need not fear me; I don't eat Terran. I prefer vegetation, to be honest. There is no harm in seeing me as I am." As he spoke, Allahir shifted back to the way he had looked when first they'd met, shocking green hair and all, "I mostly remain shifted to keep others calm; I've been told I have a threatening appearance." He winked merrily and chuckled, lightening the mood.

"Well, you have been most forthcoming; my friends and I thank you, Allahir." Thor stood and the other two slid out of the booth after him. Thor raised a hand in farewell and turned to go when Sherlock suddenly froze.

"One last thing," Allahir glanced up, curious, "Would it be possible to learn this skill?"

Allahir shook his head, "No; it is unique to the DNA of my species."

Sherlock frowned, "Would someone be able to re-create these effects?"

Again, Allahir shook his head, "No, you would be able to tell upon close examination, like you did. There is always a slight flaw; for me, it's my eyes. I never can get them to change color. Why do you ask?"

Sherlock smiled, "Just curious. You have been most informative, thank you."

Allahir waved, "No problem; if you need anything else, you know where to find me!"

They parted way, Thor and the others exiting the establishment while Allahir stayed behind and requested another drink. Once they were a good distance away, John glanced up at his old friend, "Okay; what's got your gears turning?"  
Sherlock smiled cockily, "Process of elimination, John. I wanted to be absolutely sure that we weren't dealing with someone who had learned to shape shift, or if it was some sort of illusion. He has proven that it is, in fact, an illusion rather than a natural or biological occurrence. It's the eyes, he said; others have more obvious flaws, I'm sure, but for him, it's the eyes. Shape shifting is only effective to a point; the person we are dealing with is able to turn himself into perfect copies of someone, I think. Well, we shall see."

Thor nodded, clearly impressed, "Excellent work, Sherlock. It is odd; the further into this investigation we get, the more certain I become that my brother has had some part in this, if he is not truly the perpetrator. It feels true in my heart that he falsified his death and tampered with my senses. This, above all things angers me," he added sadly, "He is my brother, and I love him, but there is no excusing his actions."

John smiled, "Yes, I understand. I have a sister who is rather... _difficult_."

Thor smiled ruefully, "Yes, but your sister isn't regarded as a god and has no ability to alter reality through her illusions."

John raised an eyebrow, "True. I think I'd kill her myself if she did."

Thor chuckled, "This should be a good spot...Heimdahl? I'm sure you were listening; wherever these 'Guardians of the Galaxy' are, please send us there." There was silence for a moment and suddenly light, sound, and rapid travel across the universe ensued.

As they landed, John shuddered, "I don't think I will ever get used to that."

Sherlock chuckled, "Oh, it isn't so bad, John. It's like a roller coaster."

John glared at him, "I _detest_ roller coasters."

Sherlock grinned evilly, "Yes. I know."

Thor rolled his eyes, "Alright, you two. We have work to do." The three men walked in silence through what seemed like a planet-wide bazaar. This was a place perfect for the conducting of business, whether or not it was legal. To their right, it seemed there was some sort of arena made of metal. Thor caught John's gaze and smiled, "It's a battleground. Your people would call it a...let me see...ah, yes. Your people would call it a Gladiator Arena. Only here, we do not always use slaves. Sometimes, there are volunteers who wish to test their mettle." Just then, a great roar rose from the Arena, "It would seem that there is a fight on even as we speak."

John stopped, his head cocked to one side as he considered the massive structure, "Um, Thor? You don't suppose these Guardians would enjoy a fight, would they?"

"Oh, most certainly."

"Do you think they might enjoy them enough to volunteer?"

Thor chuckled, "Possibly, why do you ask?"

Just then, John and Sherlock dodged in different directions as a massive blue-skinned man landed between them. In answer, John gave Thor a look he usually reserved for Sherlock and said, "Well, I suppose people go flying out of the arena regularly, do they?"

"Huh. Well, then. Hold on tightly." With little more warning, Thor wrapped one of John's arms and one of Sherlock's arms around his neck, spun his hammer, and flew off towards the Arena. John let out a screech of sheer surprise and panic that had many people glancing around for an injured child. He set them down gently near the protective railing where the bystanders stood, then took off again, landing in front of five... _interesting_ characters. There was an enormous, well-muscled man with red skin and swirling patterns in his skin that looked like they had been burned or tattooed there, though they could have been natural as well. Beside him stood a woman with green skin and hair, wearing a vicious scowl and holding a sword which was currently aimed at Thor, ready for the new threat. In front was a human man who seemed of little special significance, though Thor sensed something... _different_ about him. No, whatever it was about this man with the red coat and the metallic mask that was special, it was certainly not evident at first glance. The most intriguing pair, however were the two in the very back. The most evident of these was the massive living tree who stood watching passively. On his shoulder stood a raccoon that stood on its hind legs, wore clothes, and held an enormous rifle that was at _least_ as large as he was.

The moment Thor had landed in front of them, the odd-looking group had fanned out and surrounded him, save for the tree-thing and the raccoon. "Good morrow I trust you are the Guardians of the Galaxy; it is a pleasure. I am Thor, of Asgard, son of Odin Allfather."

The raccoon snorted, "Hello, who-cares-what-your-name-is. My I'm Rocket; meet my friend, Groot. He's gonna shut yer talkin' mouth now." Groot's massive arm suddenly extended and took hold of Thor, tossing him high in the sky.

Smiling to himself, Thor simply spun his hammer and slowed himself before returning to hover just over the ragtag group below him, "Impressive; I've never met a Groot before. Your kind is a rare and precious species. It is my honor to know you. Well, I think that is enough talk for now. My turn." With that, Thor landed hard in the middle of the Guardians, striking his hammer into the ground and sending bolts of lightning flying at every one of them. Thor slowly straightened, looking around him at those who had been flung to the ground. The only one left standing was Groot, as wood did not conduct electricity. "I did not come here to fight you, nor do I have the time to waste on such foolishness. I came here to request your aid, nothing more."Just then, the man with the full-cover mask managed to struggle to his feet, "Interesting," Thor thought out loud.

"Oh, man. For a guy who's not interested in fighting us, you sure do pack a punch. You're here for our help, huh? Fine. We'll go with you." The others regained their feet; Groot carefully and gently lifted Rocket in his arms, cradling him like a child with a tender look on his wooden face. The man who'd spoken reached up and pressed a couple of buttons on his mask and it slid neatly apart and folded into itself. "I'm Peter Quil, but most people just call me Star-Lord."

***Author's Note***

Oh, this is fun; I'm really glad I had this idea. Okay, on to the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

***Author's Note***

I know it's been a while since I posted; I've been very busy with other projects. So, I've got kind of a fun little interaction for you in this chapter. I'm still not decided on the length for this one. I guess we'll just see where the story takes me. I've got a couple of other stories knocking around in my head that I'm planning, and it's driving me to distraction! Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter. As I said previously, I'm only writing this story for fun and my own amusement, so please enjoy!

***End Note***

"I am sorry to pull you away from your obligations, but we have some questions for you," began Thor.

Peter snorted, "Don't worry about it. I've been walking away from my obligations for a very long time. Although, come to think of it, they _were_ pretty upset. We're probably going to have to pull out of port now."

Rocket rolled his eyes, the gesture accompanied by a loud groan, "Oh, please, Quil. We were talking just this morning about leaving, anyway. It's gotten pretty boring around here; there's no challenges no more. We've kicked the butts of everybody here, and no new challengers are coming. Whether they're pissed at us or not, we were gonna leave."  
Peter glared at the raccoon and cleared his throat nervously, "Yes, well. Thanks for that." He cleared his throat again, "At least our leaving will be more exciting now."  
Gamora rolled her eyes at him, "There you go, Quil. Look on the bright side."  
Star-Lord ignored her and continued, "Now; you said you had questions? I take it they're important questions, if it brought the son of Odin all the way out here. Yes, I know who you are."  
Thor raised an eyebrow at the man, "Yes, they are very important questions, regarding the Collector." Peter's face went terribly still, and the other three snapped their heads around while Groot took a step closer to the table and leaned in close, emitting a low groaning sound from his chest. "Ah; now you understand why it was imperative we speak with you. These are my colleagues: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Mr. Holmes is a renowned detective on your planet of origin, Star-Lord. Mr. Watson is Sherlock's friend and second pair of eyes; he is also an accomplished doctor, also on your planet of origin."

Sherlock and John inclined their heads in greeting as the Guardians watched them apprehensively. Sherlock, unperturbed, spoke quietly, "If I may, Thor. We were hoping you might be able to provide us with some information regarding the last time you spoke with Tanileer Tivan. We went to see him, only to find that his shop had been reduced to ashes and he had vanished into the night, as it were. We heard a rumor that you were the last people to meet with him. Can you tell us what happened that day?"  
Peter rolled his drink between his hands, glancing nervously at his comrades, "Well, you have to understand...None of us knew what it was that we had in our possession at the time. Not until it was too late. I had this job that I sort of stole from the Ravagers, but not really. I mean, they steal from everybody, right? Figured it was time somebody stole from them, anyway...You don't care. Like I said, I took the job from them and found this orb-thing that I had to take to my contact, only he backed out on the deal when he found out Ronan was after the orb, too. Gamora here got us a meeting with the Collector, and we took it to him expecting to get a few hundred million credits for our troubles, only things...didn't go as planned. He explained to us that what we had was called an _Infinity Stone_ ," he said in a whisper, glancing around for eavesdroppers. Thor exchanged a dark look with Sherlock and John before Peter continued, "Anyway, he explained to us about the stones and their power when he unlocked the orb it was kept in. His servant decided she didn't want to be his servant anymore and grabbed it. The thing... _exploded_. Purple light shot out, destroying everything. The poor girl evaporated, and I did the only thing I could think to do...I grabbed the orb, closed it around the stone again, and we got the hell _out_ of there. We wound up taking it to the Nova Corps, and they keep it safe now. I'd like to see the madman who'd try to get it out of _there_."

Thor heaved a heavy sigh, "Then I am afraid our dear friend has been far more foolish than I thought he was capable of. You see, the Asgardian throne had entrusted an item of extreme power to Tanileer Tivan, and it was stolen shortly after your meeting with him."

Peter choked on his drink, "Somebody was stupid enough to steal from _Asgardians_!? Well, we'll do anything we can to help. What was it that was stolen?"  
Thor glanced around quickly and leaned in close, "It was another Infinity Stone; the Reality Stone, in fact."

Peter visibly paled, "He had another Infinity Stone when we were there? I thought it was a bad idea to get more than one in the same place?"

Thor nodded, "Yes, it is. That is correct. It is better to keep them apart, as they amplify each others' power. That could possibly explain why the event you described was so extreme. The last person who possessed the Reality Stone was, in fact, my brother Loki. Sherlock thinks he may have falsified his own death as part of his plan to re-appropriate the Stone. Currently it seems that, if Sherlock is correct, Loki is sitting on the throne of Asgard under the guise of my Father. That is a situation far too dangerous to allow to continue. Also, if Sherlock is correct, then Loki is currently in possession of the Reality Stone. I've seen what he can do with that Stone, and I would rather not see it again."

Peter visibly shuddered, "What is it that you need from us, other than our story?"

Thor glanced at Sherlock, who leaned forward and spoke softly, "Did he contact you before he vanished? Anything at all?"

Peter's eyes narrowed, "If it weren't such a desperate situation, I'd say no, but given the situation...Yes, he did. He said that things were happening that he couldn't control, and our appearance with the Space Stone, he called it, was just one further sign of it. He definitely seemed spooked, which is definitely not like him. He said he had a place he could go to for a while to avoid attracting attention."

"Good. Did he say anything else?"

Peter ran a hand through his hair, "Well, he didn't _say_ anything, but I did hear something in the background before he shut down the call. He was in a hangar getting ready for transport. It was very hush-hush, seemed to me. Seemed like they had a skeleton crew and the smallest, fastest ship they could manage, from what I heard. Then again, it's Knowhere. Under the radar is kind of what they do there. Anyway, from the fuel payload they were loading on, I'd say he was hopping galaxies as fast as he could."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "How far would you say he could have gotten?"

Peter leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, "Well, let me think now...Don't suppose you have anything as ordinary as a pen and paper on you, do you?" He asked doubtfully.

John smirked, "Sherlock wouldn't, no. I, however, am far more ordinary than he is, and I just so happen to have such commonplace items."

Peter grinned and lunged for the offered items, quickly scribbling down some calculations, circling the total distance Tivan could have managed; beside the circled distance, he wrote the description and model of the ship Tivan had used.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "That's a lot of information from just overhearing a conversation."

Peter chuckled, "See, out here in space, we don't just get vocal calls; we get visual, as well. I could see the nose of the ship he was using; it's a medium-range jumper, which means good distance, and quickly."

John shot the man a disbelieving look, "Are you sure you could get the model from just seeing the _nose_ of the vessel?"  
Peter glared at him, "You're a doctor, right? You know stuff first glance, right? Medical stuff? Well, I'm a pilot. I know ships first glance. That information is accurate, right down the to paint job."

Sherlock chuckled, "Take no offense. Watson seems to think that I am the only extraordinary mind in the galaxy. Well, this will do quite sufficiently, thank you. Come, you two. I need to look at a map."

Thor turned to the the Guardians before following after the tip of Sherlock's ankle-length coat as it vanished through the door, "Thank you for the information; we are most grateful. I hope you make your escape without any harm coming to you."

Star-Lord laughed, "Yeah, well, that's really the most we can hope for, isn't it? Looks like we're going to get our challenge after all." He paused at the sound of an angry crowd outside, "Speaking of which, it seems like we'd better get a move on. Come on, guys; let's go. Groot? Do you think you could make a hole for us, please?" The enormous tree-thing seemed to smile as it crossed to the door in two massive strides. He shattered the door with one blow, then extended his arm and sweeping across the crowd, knocking a large portion of the angry people to the ground. "Well, that'll about do it; see you around, Thor. Your Majesty...Whatever." Star-Lord waved as his face mask slid into place just before he dashed out the door, Gamora and Drax on either side of him.

Thor chuckled and made his way after his new friends. He found them in a dark alleyway, waiting for him. "That was most informative; I think I may be able to find us a galaxy map, if that is what you were requesting."

Sherlock nodded, "Yes. I need to make some calculations."

Thor led the two men away from the bar towards a long, low building. "This is sort of like your Earth libraries, only it's generally used by pilots to plot out their journeys. I can get you access to a galactic map, if that is acceptable to you."

"Perfectly acceptable, if that's the best you can do." Was Sherlock's terse reply.

John cast a scandalized look at his friend, "I'm sorry; he's not meaning to be rude. It's just that he's already working out calculations in his head, and any distraction is an irritant to him."

"Will we be able to pull up landing records from here?" The detective interjected.  
Thor shook his head, "No; we'd have to visit the port itself."

Sherlock sighed, "So, in other words, we are to waste our time searching. I'll have to narrow down my parameters. Now, hush your distracting noise patterns."  
Thor bit back a snort as he leaned in to John, "'Noise patterns'?"

John's voice trembled with the effort of not laughing, "When he's...otherwise engaged, he tends to forget normal ways of phrasing things."

"Ah," was all Thor could say. They reached their destination, and Thor immediately made his way to a free workstation and spoke clearly, "Computer; pull up an interactive galactic map, please, and mark our current location."

Immediately, a sort of dark, opaque bubble went up around them, shutting out all light and external noise as a cool female voice said, "Of course, Thor, son of Odin. Is there anything further?"

Sherlock spoke up, "Yes; pinpoint all planets withing," he glanced down at the sheet of paper with the distance on it and read off the number, "and I'll require an interactive readout of each planet's population and terrain. Oh, and include refueling stations within those parameters as well."

The female voice spoke again, "Of course, Sherlock Holmes. Here is your readout."

A blue screen appeared in mid air in front of Sherlock, taking him by surprise, "Impressive." He bent closer to study the list, pointing to a number of locations, "No, no, not populated enough, too populated, not remote enough, too remote, ah. Yes, yes, yes, this one, too, no, oh, _Heavens_ no. There, there, and there also. Not there, not there, not there. Perfect. I think we have a workable list. Can I get a copy of this list, Computer?"

The female voice spoke again, "Of course, Sherlock. I will provide you with a data pad with the requested information."

A slot in the floor at Sherlock's feet slid open and a thin tube slid up through the slot. Sherlock bent to retrieve the tube; the moment he touched it, it whirred to life and projected a screen with the list he had requested. Sherlock's eyebrows shot up, "Most impressive. Computer, how do I turn it off?"  
The computer responded in her cool voice, "To turn off the data pad, you simply shake it. To turn it back on, shake it again."

Sherlock did so, pleased with the new technology, "Oh, that is _brilliant_ ," he said quietly to himself to John's great surprise, "This should do nicely. Thank you, Computer. That will be all."

"You are most welcome, Thor, son of Odin, Sherlock Holmes, and John Watson. I hope that I was informative."

With that, the "bubble" surrounding then receded and the three men turned to leave. "Well, this certainly gives us a starting point," Sherlock stated simply, "Now we just need to _visit_ each of these planets, not to mention the refueling stations."

Thor sighed, "Well, we'd best begin. Heimdall?" Sherlock called out the name of their first planet moments before the light of the Rainbow Bridge engulfed them and yanked them towards their first destination.

***Author's Note***

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I really am enjoying Sherlock in this situation here. My Avatar story that I'm planning has been pushed back in favor of two other projects; I'm not sure if I want to do Scarlet Witch and Vision first or Inu Yasha, but we'll see where it goes. This story's still got quite a few surprises in store for y'all, so I hope you keep reading. Lots of love!


	6. Chapter 6

***Author's Note***

Hey, everybody! So, I've decided that this will be a very short story, compared to my others. I intend for it to be fifteen chapters or less, which I don't think I'll have too much difficulty managing. I can see the end already. After this, I'm going to write my first Inu Yasha/Kagome story, which is going to be _super_ fun! Hope you're enjoying this one! Things are going to start coming together now...Enjoy!

***End Note***

It took them many days to search every planet on Sherlock's list. At last, however, they found themselves on what could only be described as a farming planet that also played host to a thriving, bustling trade hub. Once they had made their landing, to which John and Sherlock were becoming rather acclimatized, they stopped for a moment and looked around. Thor and John turned to look at Sherlock, who stood with his head cocked to one side, thinking. "Yes," he said, "Yes, this could very well be the place we're looking for." Sherlock stood nodding for another moment before turning towards what he was sure must be the building they needed. These worlds were all vastly different, but in many things, they were the same, such as the way they organized. In that, they were not so very different from Earth. They made their way towards the building and inquired after the Port Master. They were directed towards his office and they were quickly admitted.

Sitting in front of the wide, low desk that overlooked the spaceport was a pink-skinned, incredibly fat man. He had squinty, sea-green eyes, and a matching mohawk; the layers of his stomach hung repulsively over a belt that was two sizes too small for him. His beady little eyes widened at the three men that had entered his office, "Asgardians! Oh, my lords!" The man shimmied out of his chair, landing on his flabby knees and bowing low before them, "It is rare that _one_ Asgardian should grace me with their presence, let alone _three_! Bless you, Masters. What can your humble servant do for you?"  
Sherlock glowered in irritation, "For one, you can stop blubbering. I _despise_ fools who are incapable of thinking for themselves. We require your assistance."

The man got to his feet as quickly as his incredible girth would allow (he seemed to be three times the width of Sherlock) and bowed again, "Of course, Master. How may I be of assistance?"  
Sherlock glowered at the man, " _Must_ you be such a sycophant? Well, if you insist. We need information on a ship and its passenger." Sherlock quickly gave the man the information, "Have you seen a ship of that description in the last few weeks?"

The tub of lard bobbed his head quickly and waddled to his desk and shuffled around for a moment before coming upon the data pad he was looking for, "Now, it seems to me I _do_ remember a ship like that. If I recall, it came in about a month or so ago. It was exceptionally odd to me, because there was only one man, and he had only a few packages with him. Nothing that looked like luggage, mind, more like trade goods. Only thing is, he never showed up again after that. No markets, no nothin'. Soon as he'd got off the ship, it left again."

Sherlock hummed deep in his throat as he took the pad the man offered him and gave it a quick look over, "He never left? Is it possible that he was smuggled off the planet?"

The man cocked his head, "I suppose, but it wouldn't be worth the effort. My security measures are... _extensive._ Nothing larger than a microbe moves on or off planet without my knowing. I have scanners in the atmosphere that give me a precise readout on everything on those ships, and as you can see, nothing has been smuggled off that is large enough to hold a humanoid since he arrived."

Sherlock nodded and handed back the pad, "Yes, I do see. Thank you; you've been most helpful. And if you _do_ happen to see him again, please make it known to us. Do _not_ confront him, however. We believe that he is the only witness to a theft from the Asgardian throne."

The man's green eyes grew wide, "Someone was foolish enough to steal from _Odin_!? I sincerely hope you find him, Masters. Tell me, is he dangerous?"

Thor smirked, "Yes. He may well be one of the most dangerous beings in the entire universe, so I would not provoke him unnecessarily, if I were you. Thank you for your time, Port Master."  
The man shivered, sending his rolls of fat to jiggling sickeningly, "Of course, Master. I will see to it personally. That is, I'll send a messenger to you myself, and I will tell no one of our discussion, and I will alert my men to quietly keep an eye out for your man."

Thor nodded, "That sounds most wise. Thank you. I fear we must take our leave of you now, good man."

The Port Master nodded, "Oh, yes; I quite understand." He ushered them out of his office as a cold sweat broke out on his face moments before he collapsed in his chair, his chest heaving. "I hope they find him soon; I can't take all this stress."

John remained silent until the three of them had made their way into the bazaar, where it was too noisy for them to be overheard, "Well, I'm quite surprised that you didn't correct him back there, Sherlock."

The taller man raised an eyebrow and responded without so much as sparing the Doctor a glance, "Yes, well. If he thought he could have gotten away with turning on us for profit, he would have done so. He may well have if Thor here were the only true Asgardian at hand, but allowing him to think there were three...Well, that lowered his chances of success in his mind, so he was far more cooperative. The clothes aided in the illusion."

Thor smirked and John sighed, "Yes, I suppose so. Still, I wish the silly cape wasn't necessary. You, however, seem perfectly at home, you bloody peacock."

Sherlock paused and half-turned towards John, "First I'm an overgrown bat, and now I'm a peacock. Why is it that I seem to resemble so many animals of late?" John groaned and Thor chuckled. Sherlock, however, seemed to suddenly be rather distracted. Thor and John stopped short, watching their friend as his eyes grew bright and darted from one spot to another, "Look," he said quietly, "The lady in the red dress."

Thor glanced, confused, at the woman Sherlock had indicated, "Yes, she's quite lovely. What of her?"

Sherlock sighed in irritation, "She's buying good of far higher quality than she can afford."

Thor narrowed his eyes as he watched the woman, "What makes you say that? Her dress says high-class to me..."

Sherlock made a noise in his throat that was perilously close to a growl, "You really are as stupid as the old stories say you are, aren't you?" Thor narrowed his eyes dangerously and John groaned in disbelief, "Take a _close_ look at her, you bumbling buffoon. Her hands, in particular. Her nails are chipped and unadorned. Her shoes are faded and scuffed. There are rough spots on her hands, which is why she keeps them hidden. Her body is tough and muscular, which tells me she's used to hard labor, and she looks like she's going to jump out of her skin if someone talks to her. In addition, look at her wrists."

John leaned forward, staring at the girl, "They're bracelets, Sherlock."

He stubbornly shook his head, "No. Look closer; they have a small spot of light on the inside of her wrists, and it _never_ shifts position. They're not bracelets, they're _restraints_. She's a servant to a wealthy master, and a cruel one, I'd guess. We need to follow her, see where she goes. I have a hunch that I know _precisely_ who her Master is."

John and Thor stared at the girl, Thor shaking his head in confusion. John, however, nodded; he was well-used-to Sherlock's perception, "You're right; it just doesn't fit. She may be _dressed_ like a courtier, but she doesn't _walk_ like one."

They loitered around, pausing to glance at this bit and that, John buying a bauble for Mary while Sherlock sneered derisively. At last, the girl left the bazaar, and after ten minutes, their small party followed. She hurried out of town, pulling what looked like a hovering rickshaw full of supplies. The moment she was out of view of the town, she hastened to a quick jog, racing over the road and kicking up a small cloud of dust in her wake. Thor, John, and Sherlock followed at a good distance, easily keeping pace with her. Just as they were beginning to wonder where the girl could possibly be headed, they caught a fleeting glimpse of a grand, lavish house nestled in a small valley between two mountains. She hurried through the open gates, swinging them gently shut behind her, making no noise with her passing. Thor grabbed hold of the other two, twirled his hammer, and sprung lightly into the air, taking flight and landing gently behind the gates. Their flight had closed the distance between them and their quarry nicely; the doors still stood open once they had reached them, though the girl and her "rickshaw" were at the far end of a long hallway. She turned in surprise at their entry, and cowered when a door to her left was thrown suddenly open.

"You stupid girl," came an ice-cold voice, laced with venom, "You were followed, and you led them right _to_ me!" A man advanced from the doorway, raised his right arm, and backhanded the girl so hard that she flew ten feet and skidded to a halt at Thor's feet.

He knelt and gently helped her to her feet, soothing her with gentle words and handing her to John for any medical attention she might need. "Taneleer Tivan. I've been looking for you."

The Collector turned his icy gaze on his uninvited guests and sneered, "You found me, son of Odin. What do you want?"

***Author's Note***

I have a love/hate relationship with the Collector. I mean, he is what he is, but...Anywho, We're nearly done here. I'd like to finish this in ten chapters if I can, but I'm not sure, so I'm giving myself a five-chapter leeway. Either way, My Inu Yasha will begin by the end of the week (end of day, if I have my way..." Thanks for reading, as always. Lots of love! 

P.S. Hope you liked the Matrix reference! I couldn't help slipping it in there!

\- Lady Darkwind


	7. Chapter 7

***Author's Note***

Okay, so it looks like I won't need a whole ten chapters after all! This story surprised me, yet again! Looks like it's going to be much shorter than I'd expected. Most of our answers will be answered in this chapter, but there will be one further after this one. I know, this story has been far shorter than I usually write, but that's okay! I can't be long-winded all the time, right!? hahaha. Anywho, enjoy, all!

***End Note***

Tivan led them to a large dining hall and called for tea, seething with irritation, "If I wanted to speak with you, don't you think I could have come to Asgard?"

Thor sighed, "Yes, well your message was...lacking in detail. We need to know who it was that took the Infinity Stone that we left with you. Also, I cannot _believe_ you were so foolish as to have a _second_ stone in such close proximity to the first one we left in your keeping!"

Tivan smirked arrogantly as his servant brought their tea, "Foolish? I remember when the stones were _created_ , child! You are the fool for believing yourself to be of higher position than I am! Of higher power! You don't know power, boy. Your father's power is fleeting and temporary. You have nothing I desire. Get out."

Thor snarled and lunged forward, grabbing the man by the fur cloak he always wore, "I don't _care_ if we have nothing for you! You could have demolished the entire universe in your arrogance! You may have no desire to go on living, but the rest of us _do_!" Thor flung the man across the room in anger, where he crashed into the wall and landed on his feet. "You _will_ tell me what I need to know. I've seen these Stones in action. I know what they can do, and I have _no_ desire to see them reunited!" Thor held his hammer close to Tivan's face, where electricity snapped and crackled inches from The Collector's face.

Tivan stared at the hammer for a moment, then his gaze darted back to Thor, judging his seriousness. He sighed heavily, "Fine. You win. It was your brother, Loki. He entered my shop under the guise of the Lady Sif and flung me across what remained of my shop. You see, I was already badly injured from the explosion that destroyed my shop. If it had not been for my weakened state, I would have been able to fight him off, most likely. Instead, he defeated me easily and found the Stone. I regained consciousness just in time to see him walk out with the crate. What his purpose in reclaiming the Stone was, I do not know. That is everything that I know."

Thor slowly lowered the hammer on a heavy sigh, "I knew it. Somehow, I knew. Thank you, Tivan. We shall not bother you again, and we shall speak of your location to no one."

The Collector narrowed his eyes, "Save that troublesome Heimdall. He knows my location already."

Thor chuckled, "Yes, but Heimdall knows _everything_. He will say nothing, you have my word."

Taneleer Tivan stood and smiled his cold smile, "Very well, then. Good day to you, Thor. May your clouds never darken my doorstep again."

Thor bowed and ushered the other two out. The moment they had reached a safe distance, Thor called to the sky, "We're ready, Heimdall. Bring us back."

The three men stepped calmly through the gate and found Heimdall waiting calmly for them, "If our king is not our king, then where _is_ he?"

Thor smiled grimly, "My brother would not be so foolhardy as to keep him far from his sight. He will have replaced one of our prisoners with my Father."

Sherlock chuckled, "Leave it to me. I will be able to discern which is the illusion."

Heimdall gave Sherlock a weighty look, "Yes, I believe you will, Sherlock. You may be the only being in the Universe who _can_ , as a matter of fact." Heimdall called one of his guards in, "Show Sherlock and John to the dungeons and follow their orders from there.

Sherlock smiled and beckoned to John and the pair followed the guard to their destination. For a moment, Sherlock stood staring at further incontrovertible proof that there were, in fact, aliens. Now, however, it was not due to shock, but concentration. Every single prisoner turned towards him and stared back curiously, though none spoke. Eventually, they grew weary of the staring match and returned to whatever they had been doing before...Save one. That one stood in his cell screaming at the guards, or at least it _sounded_ like he was screaming. Sherlock turned to the guard, "Step out for a moment, would you?" The guard looked confused, but did as he was ordered. The moment the guard was out of the room, the prisoner fell silent and sat, reading a book. "Huh," said Sherlock, "Please return, guard." Again, the guard did as he was bidden, and immediately, the prisoner was at the containment field, screaming. Three more times, Sherlock tried his experiment, each with the same results. By now, the other prisoners had become curious and were watching with great interest. Sherlock grinned to himself and walked straight up to the oddly-behaved prisoner, but the man stared right through Sherlock, as though he were not there at all. "Hello, what is your name?" He asked the man. No answer. "Do you know where you are?" Again, silence. "You're not who people think you are, are you?" Suddenly, Sherlock thought he heard a very faint echo of an answer. "Got you." He said quietly. He called the guard over, "Open this cell."

The guard stared at Sherlock in astonishment, "But, sir!"

Sherlock turned to the man, his blue eyes flashing dangerously, "Do as you are ordered, guard. Open. This. Cell."

The guard relented, muttering to himself, "Crazy human. Hes going to cost me my head..."

Sherlock cleared his throat, "Yes, well. It would be an improvement. You don't seem to _use_ your head much, anyway." The man froze and stared at Sherlock with the beginnings of fear in his eyes. He brought down the containment field, but the "prisoner" just stayed where he was, still screaming. "That will be quite enough, thank you. I know who you are, and you are _not_ this prisoner. Come, Watson; lend me a hand, please. We cannot trust our eyes or ears, so trust your hands. Search this cell, John, on hands and knees if you have to."

John smiled, "I think I know what you're up to, old friend. Alright, I'll lend you a literal hand."

Sherlock, who was already on hands and knees, searching, shot John a withering stare, "Oh, please, John. Leave the cleverness to me. You are a miserable failure at it." John chuckled to himself and together, the two men searched the cell.

At last, John's hand fell on something that ought not be there...It felt like a cloak. "Sherlock! Over here!"

Sherlock rushed over to his friend, "Well done, John! Bloody brilliant of you." Carefully, and with as much respect as he could manage, Sherlock traced his hands over the fabric until his hands met something cold and metallic, then followed it down to something warm and fleshy. Running his hands over this, he ascertained it to be a hand. Sherlock squeezed it once, and the hand jerked weakly in response. "He's alive," Sherlock muttered, "You! Guard! Call your Healers. I've found the King. And be quiet about it!"

The guard paled visibly, "Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Right away, sir!" He stumbled backwards out of the room to find a Healer.

Meanwhile, Sherlock sat beside the body of the King, still staring at the illusion, "John, come here and place your hand over mine, if you would." John obliged and Sherlock gently slid his hand out from underneath John's and stood, getting closer to the illusion. He swung his hand gently at the apparition; his hand easily passed through, as though it were a hologram. Again and again he tried to dispel it, going so far as to walk _through_ it, but to no avail, "Huh. It seems that whatever spell or illusion or... _whatever_ is shielding Odin from sight is cast on the cell itself, not just the King. We'll have to drag him out physically before he will be visible again."

Just then, the guard returned with an older, woman with steel-gray hair and a stern countenance, "Alright, where is the King? Or is this some sick human joke?"

Sherlock smiled at her, "No, Madam, I can assure you that this is no joke. John, give me a hand here, will you?" Together, the two men each found one of Odin's shoulders and gripped him firmly but gently under the arm and _dragged_ with all their might, until he was freed of the cell's illusion, and he was suddenly visible again to the onlookers. Everyone gasped in shock at their King's appearance. His armor was tarnished, dull, and covered in long, shallow scratches. He had clearly been wounded, but there had been no treatment for him. He was pale and thin; he hair hung limply around his face, filthy and dank. He stank from lack of bathing, not to mention the smell of old blood.

John sucked in a breath, "Dear God, Loki just _dumped_ him here after he took over! Look at him, Sherlock. I don't know how he's still breathing."

The Healer did not pause as she examined her King and responded, "I have to agree with you, human. Even Odin Allfather has his limits, though they are great. I must take him immediately to the Healing Room, or he will not live much longer."

Sherlock nodded, "I will speak with Thor. He will want to know his father is alive." The Healer nodded and moved the King onto a stretcher, ushering him quietly off through the castle.

***Author's Note***

Phew, just in time! This story just took off at a gallop, with me hanging on for dear life! One more chapter should do it, I think, then it'll be on to my InuYasha story, _An Unforseen Ally_. This one came upon me over the last few days, watching InuYasha after many years, and it just sort of started to form in my head. I promise, I will still do my Scarlett/Vision, and my Avatar is _definitely_ happening,, they've just been pushed back a bit. It's looking like I'll be able to finish this one today, so...wheee! Moving on! Lots of love!

-Lady Darkwind


	8. Chapter 8

***Author's Note***

Well, this one went far more quickly than I expected! This is the last chapter for this one, and I truly hope you've enjoyed it. I certainly had fun dreaming it up!

***End Note***

When Sherlock explained the situation to Thor in his usual brusque manner, the Asgardian erupted with anger, "Where is he!? Where is my father?"

John held out his hands in a calming gesture, "Easy, Thor. Easy. I know, it seems bad, but your father is safe in the hands of your Healers, though if we'd been a few days later in returning, I don't think the same could have been said. Yes, he's in bad shape, but he'll be alright. I truly believe that. He's _Odin_. He's lived through worse."

At John's words, Thor calmed, "You're right. Of course you are. I'm sorry, my friends. What is the next step?"

Sherlock took a deep breath and sat down, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles, "We know now that our hunch is correct, we will lift the veil to peer beneath at the puppet master. We will show Loki in no uncertain terms that we know _exactly_ what he's done, and that he hasn't gotten away with it as he thought. I do not doubt that it will come to a fight, but at least we know he'll have to show his true form. When he does that, I suppose you Asgardians will do what you do best – capture him."

Thor nodded, "Yes, but what about the Stone? He's bound to be more powerful than ever with it."

Sherlock nodded, "Yes, but I'm sure you can handle him. You've fought this thing before, right?"

Thor nodded reluctantly, "Well, yes, but..."

Sherlock held up a hand to cut him off, "Well, then you'll be fine. No worries. We should go now, before he has time to become suspicious."

Thor and John nodded, "Very well. Once this is over, you and John will receive your payment, along with the gratitude of Asgard before you return to Earth."

Sherlock nodded, "Well, then let us get going."

Together, the three men made their way from Thor's personal quarters to the Throne room, where the impostor wearing Odin's image awaited them. The moment they arrived in the Throne Room, Loki-Odin stood, "I heard you arrived an hour ago. What has taken you so long to make your report to me?"

Thor bowed, "Apologies. My companions were weary and required some rest. We took some quiet refreshments in my quarters before coming here."

Loki-Odin nodded regally, "I see. Very well, then. What did you find out?"

Sherlock stepped forward, "Your Majesty; we did, indeed, find the culprit behind these murders, as well as the theft of the Reality Stone. There is, as I suggested before, one man behind all three events."

Loki-Odin nodded again, though there seemed to be some small amount of worry in his eyes now, "Is that so?"

Sherlock smiled slightly, "Yes, Lord. I fear the culprit has been closer than any of us dared imagine. He is, in fact, within Asgard, itself."

Loki-Odin glowered, "Oh, is he? What is the identity of this man?"

Thor held out a hand to Sherlock, "Enough. You know full well who we're talking about... _Loki_."

The impostor straightened suddenly before a shimmer ran over him. Suddenly, standing where Odin had been only a moment before was a tall, wiry, handsome man with piercing blue eyes and midnight black hair that hung to his shoulders. He wore a dark green suit of armor with a matching helmet which sported great horns; in his right hand, he held a great staff. His complexion was slightly pale, and there was a malice that seemed to emanate from him when his brother named him, "So your little human pet fitted the pieces of the puzzle together for you, did he? Well, good for him!" Without warning, Loki pointed the staff at Sherlock.

"Sherlock, _move_!" Cried John, who wasted no time in flinging himself at the detective and knocking him out of the way, just in time. A blue bolt of energy rent the air where Sherlock had been standing moments before and split the stone behind him, "I think we'd better get out of harm's way, don't you?" John said with near-panic in his eyes.

Sherlock nodded, a similar look in his eyes, "An excellent thought, my friend."

The pair scrambled out of the way as the brothers lunged at each other and began trading blows that shook the air. Lightning flew from Thor's hammer and struck Loki in the chest, sending him end-over-end into the air before he slammed into the far wall. Loki stood and grinned evilly at his brother before leaping high into the air and bringing his staff down to meet Thor's hammer. Back and forth they fought until Loki brought from his pocket a stone that glowed with an evil red light. "You know what this is, _Brother_." Loki taunted with a sneer, "The Reality Stone. I am going to re-shape history with it. I will be king, and you will be little more than a blithering simpleton!"

Thor's eyes narrowed as Loki ripped open the casket that held the Stone and reached towards the small, deadly relic. Suddenly, a loud _bang_ and the smell of sulfur filled the air, and Loki's hand jerked back, streaming blood. The bone showed clearly through the small, circular wound, and the Stone clattered away on the marble floor, stopping at Thor's feet. He immediately ripped the hem off of his cloak to wrap it around the dangerous article. Loki's blue eyes went as hard as steel and he gazed furiously around the room, looking for the offender who _dared_ attack him. His eyes popped wide and his jaw went slack when he saw the _human_ , John Watson standing across the Throne Room with his feet hip-width apart with a .9mm Barretta in his right hand while the left steadied the gun by gripping the heel of his right. Smoke curled from the barrel of the gun as Loki snarled at the man, "If I were you," John began in his calmest, most deadly tone, "I would not move again. You Asgardians may be long-lived, but you're not bulletproof."

Loki glowered at the man, "You, pitiful human, _dare_ to harm Loki, Laufey's son!?" He began to advance on John, who bravely held his ground.

The doors to the Throne Room suddenly burst wide open to admit Odin. He was clearly still wounded, but refused to accept any help. He carried with him his spear and pointed it at his adopted son in warning, "Enough, Loki. The damage has been done. Do not make this any more difficult for yourself."

Loki stared in astonishment at the aging King, "But, how did..." his gaze fell on Sherlock, " _You_ ," he snarled, "You ruined _everything_! Damn you! _Curse_ you! I _will_ have my revenge on you all! But it will not be this day, nor will I allow you to capture me!" Without another word, Loki turned on the spot and dashed to the rampart, jumping without hesitation.

Thor cried out in anguish and rushed to the spot where his beloved, tortured brother had jumped. There was nothing below, and no trace remained of Loki, save the trail of blood left on the marble from his wounded hand. "Gone," he said softly, "Gone, but not forever. He will return."

The real Odin limped slowly to his throne and sat heavily, gasping in pain. "Thor, my son; you have done well. Tell me, who are your friends?"  
Thor bowed before his father and gestured the others forward, "Father, these are Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, of Earth. They each played a roll in your rescue as well as the recovery of the Reality Stone."

Odin glanced at the two humans, "It seems that Asgard is in your debt. I thank you, both for my life, as well as the lives of my subjects, which would certainly have been lost under Loki's reign of madness. Whatever price Thor promised you will be granted, post-haste. I presume you require payment in Earth currency?"

John and Sherlock nodded, "British currency, if it would not be too much trouble, Your Highness," John confirmed respectfully.

Odin smiled, "Granted. Is there anything further the King of Asgard can offer you?"

Sherlock smiled, "Only one thing, Sire. The next time you have a case as intriguing as this one was, please feel free to confer with me. I have a tendency to grow...unpleasant when I am bored."

John snorted, "'Unpleasant?' No, Sherlock, you are _always_ unpleasant. _Neurotic_ is a better word for you when you're bored, though you're that, also. Allow to phrase it this way, he shoots walls when he's bored, Majesty."

Odin watched the two men with great amusement, "Agreed. Perhaps we could have the pleasure of your company _without_ a case some time? I find your interactions to be most amusing."

John smiled widely, "If it pleases Your Majesty."

Odin nodded, "It is settled, then. Thor? Please escort them to the Bifrost and return them home. Your payment will be... _wired_ , I believe is the Earth term...to you by the time you arrive."

Sherlock stood and bowed deeply, "Thank you, Sire. This has been a _unique_ experience." Odin nodded regally and Thor took Sherlock gently by the elbow, silently telling him it was time to go.

They walked across the Rainbow Bridge to the Bifrost in companionable silence, none feeling the need to speak until they had arrived. Thor turned to them, "Well, my friends, I thank you for your aid. I doubt I could have made such progress on my own, let alone so quickly. It has truly been my pleasure getting to know you."

John grinned, "Oh, believe me; I'll never get him to shut up about all this! Thank you, Thor. This has truly been a wonderful experience."

Thor gave John a quick, brotherly embrace before shaking Sherlock's hand. "Farewell, my friends. Heimdall? It's time." Without a word, Heimdall nodded and opened the Bifrost, "We shall meet again, my friends," Thor said in parting as John and Sherlock stepped through the Bifrost and back onto Baker Street.

The two entered 221B and immediately heard Mrs. Hudson, "Oh, boys! _There_ you are! I've been so worried!"

Sherlock smiled kindly at the older woman, "No worries, dear Mrs. Hudson. We've just been on a case, that's all. We're home now. If you don't mind, we're rather tired, and would like to rest."

Mrs. Hudson grimaced slightly, "Well, that's going to be a bit of a challenge, dears. It seems that Inspector Lestrade was told you'd be home this evening, and he's waiting for you...Seems to want an explanation of where you two have been."

Sherlock grinned wickedly and sprinted up the stairs, but not before he stooped and pressed a loud, smacking kiss to the kindly woman's cheek. He burst through the door, John right behind him wearing a poorly-disguised smirk. Good evening, Lestrade!" Sherlock greeted the fuming Inspector cheerfully, "How have things been?"

Lestrade glowered at the two men, "How've they been? I'll bloody tell you how they've been! Bloody _awful_! First, you two disappear three weeks ago, then some bloody great brutes burst their way into the morgue three days later and took the body you two were investigating! Claimed there was some secret agency or other claiming them. Load of horse dung, if you ask me."

Sherlock laid his hands on the ranting Inspector's shoulders, "Don't you worry your little brain over this, Lestrade. Case solved! We were investigating this case along side another agency, and we figured it out together!"  
Lestrade's face fell into a mask of confusion, "So...Who? The FBI? Interpol? Who?"

Sherlock bounced on the balls of his feet in his enthusiasm, clearly enjoying himself, "Asgard, Inspector. Asgard."

Lestrade's mouth fell open and his eyes bugged. John chuckled as Sherlock turned on his heel and strode quickly to his room to get some well-earned rest, "Don't try to understand, Inspector. You'll just hurt yourself." Without another word, John followed Sherlock's lead and retreated further into their shared flat. Moments later, he heard the Inspector's confused cursing under his breath, shuffling steps, and the slam of their front door.

Immediately, Sherlock's door burst open, "Well, that was _quite_ the case, Watson. We must do it again sometime."

John smirked, "Well, it had its own benefits for me."

Sherlock's head tilted to the side, "Oh? Such as what, precisely?"

John grinned wickedly, "It's not everyday I see you flabbergasted and proved wrong." He ducked quickly into his room and chuckled to himself when he heard Sherlock's low curse behind him. Quite pleased with himself, John fell onto his bed without undressing and was instantly asleep. In the morning, he would have thought it all a wonderful dream, if it weren't for the Asgardian clothing he still wore.

The End

***Author's Note***

Well, that was short, but fun! I hope you all enjoyed it, thanks so much for reading, as always! I'll be putting the first chapter of _An Unforeseen Ally_ up tonight or tomorrow morning at the latest. Lots of love!

-Lady Darkwind


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